


Taking Advantage

by Arithanas



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication Failure, Gen, Homelessness, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, direct action as way of redemption, falsely assumed blackmail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: When you are down on your luck and with a family to take care of, sometimes you have to take the help of whichever angel God sends you. This pretty distinctive angel has a reputation and drives a hard bargain.
Relationships: Eliot Spencer & Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	Taking Advantage

**Author's Note:**

> There is an explanation about this fic in the endnotes.

The battered black Chevrolet Corolla waited as the man in the bright orange sports car got out and trotted through the rain to the industrial door. Anthony Hanner used to be a proud man, but his old Army buddy was right when he said he couldn’t afford pride anymore. To soothe his stinging ego, Anthony extended his hand toward the passenger side to hold his wife’s hand, now bereft of her wedding ring. The faint depression it left in her flesh was a sore reminder of all the bad choices that brought them here.

“We can drive away…” Anthony almost begged her. 

Chloe had been supportive during these past two years. From the moment he lost his job in Coeur d’Alene to the moment he lost his job in Portland, she had been the pillar of their little family, scrounging all the small change, feeding them, keeping them decent. These last months after they were evicted had been hell. Living on the streets didn’t let her keep her job and, if they hadn’t sold the car yet, it was only because they still wanted to offer a token of safety to the two kids in the back.

“Drive away and go where, Anthony?” Chloe asked, pulling back her hand. Hardship had chiseled harsh lines of pain into her once beautiful face. “Under a bridge again?”

Ashley and Kathleen stopped chewing the cheap Rite Aid sandwiches his old Army friend had given them.

“Are we going back to the bridge?” Ashley asked with scared eyes. 

At six, Ashley was old enough to know normal people don’t live in their cars. Kathleen let her bottom lip jut forward, as she always did when she was trying not to weep. Their fear put Anthony’s heart in a vise. He was supposed to be their shield and provider...

“We are not,” Chloe said with a bit of warmth in her voice. She was determined to get a roof over their heads, no matter how hard a bargain Anthony’s friend presented them. “Dad’s friend has found us a place and we are not going back.”

The glaring light coming from inside the building made them all pay attention to the dark figure coming out to the rain. That was where they were supposed to drive, no other place. Anthony clutched the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. _I’m going to take advantage of your wife_ , his friend had said and, knowing him, he meant every word. One doesn’t become a legend by fucking around.

“Drive right in,” Chloe said, with her eyes fixed on the merciless industrial lights. 

The orange muscle car was already rolling in slowly, seemingly not waiting for them to follow. Anthony looked at Chloe again, and then to the rearview mirror where two angels with dirty faces stared at him. They couldn’t afford pride or decency anymore. The Corolla entered that dark building behind the Challenger; the big loading bay was too big for both sedans. The man, wet with Portland rain, was already climbing the stairs on his way to the lift. Chloe barely waited for the car to stop before she climbed out and opened the kids’ door. The industrial gate was closing slowly.

“Your car should be safe here,” Anthony’s friend said with a soft, but deep voice. His hand rested on the service stairs. Chloe was already half-way there, with both kids in tow. “Come on, I’ll show you the place.”

“Where are we?” Anthony asked, wondering if he should lock the car.

“It’s an old office building, being renewed for residential use.”

Anthony caught up with them and looked at his friend’s rugged face. It has been more than a score of years since he had called the other man names with the callous camaraderie of the soldiers. He was the same man, without fear and without humor.

“Do you work here?” Anthony started to feel it was not such a good idea after all.

“I own the place.” The man shrugged his shoulders as if he was disavowing the property. He climbed the stairs, leading the way. “I got lucky with my last PMC and I’ve been fooling around trying to make it habitable. I had house-flipped before, but this… well, I’m afraid my eyes were bigger than my belly. I’m going slow with this one. The lift isn’t working yet. Sorry about that.”

“It’s not a problem,” Chloe climbed up behind him, helping Ashley with the high steps. Anthony picked Kathleen up. “Is it long?”

“Just one flight of stairs.” 

The walls were covered in graffiti, but someone had splattered white paint over some. Anthony suspected those were the offensive ones. Under the glaring light of the loading bay, they looked a bit like surrealist art. 

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need it. If the police come knocking, just tell them you’re the night watch,” his old Army friend kept explaining as they reached the first floor. “But this is my house and these are my rules: Don’t break anything, keep your room clean and try to be frugal with the consumption. I still need to fix a lot of things and any large water or power bill will make me go slower if that’s possible.” He stopped to use a key to open the door to the floor. He looked at Chloe and sheepishly smiled at her. “I hope that’s reasonable, ma’am.”

“More than reasonable.” Chloe smiled back at him. Anthony doubted whatever advantages his old Army pal wanted to extract from her would be a sacrifice now.

The man opened the door and a less harsh light illuminated a totally renewed office floor. The whole floor smelled of fresh paint and drywall. A new kitchen with Formica counters and fixtures still covered with plastic film stood where the reception desk must have once greeted the visitors. Around it, eight doors—all equally black, all equally new—surrounded the kitchen. Next to each door, there was a small mailbox. The man crossed the floor and moved to the east corner. 

“I got you an electric hot plate, but feel free to use the stove if you like that better, just keep it clean.” The man said, almost apologetic as he opened the door. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’s warm and safe.”

The place looked like it was once a modest conference room, but had been repurposed to be a single unit room. Two of the walls had big windows, while the other two were painted with a soft pink hue. The furniture was almost army-like. Under one window, there was a table with the promised hotplate, a cheap dinner set for four with its equally cheap silverware, a couple of towels, and two cereal boxes next to it. Under the table, a small black fridge hummed. Two utilitarian bunk beds rested against the drywall and there was a sofa in front of them, at the other side of the room. Over the pristine sheets with hospital corners—If Anthony had a quarter, he was sure he could bounce it over it—four child-sized t-shirts and shorts rested.

“I had the audacity to buy some essentials, ma’am,” the man explained when Chloe gasped at the last detail. “You have milk, eggs, and some veggies in the fridge, and cereal for the kids, plus soap and shampoo in the bathroom.” The man pointed behind him to a couple of brown doors. “The shower takes a bit to heat up.”

“You shouldn’t have…”

“Still, I did. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Anthony moved to the brown doors, which a quick inspection let him know was the common hygiene area: four bathroom stalls covered one wall, four shower stalls were lined on the other one. An empty rack of towels stood next to a couple of washbasins. All looked new.

“If that’s better than your actual situation, I’m ready to hand you the keys, man.”

Chloe was already surveying the hot plate. His daughters looked at the bunk beds like they were a luxury out of fairy tales. Anthony himself was aching for a proper shower. He couldn’t tear his family from the place for dear life, but there was still a little detail to take care of.

“You told me you were going to take advantage of my wife.”

“Thank you for reminding me.” The man smiled a crooked, almost cruel smile. “Ma’am, may I have a word?”

“Yes?” Chloe turned around, clutching her hands. The price of safety was about to be named.

“I said to your husband I was going to take advantage of you, ma’am. I hope you won’t think less of me, but I will.”

Chloe turned white, but she nodded.

“I’m renewing the place in my spare time, and your nose might have informed you that paint leaves fumes. ‘Renovation’ also means lots of dust and trash. I’m going to ask you to do some sweeping and to ventilate the top floors…”

“That’s what you call taking advantage, Spencer?” 

Anthony almost felt his knees giving out in relief. Chloe tried to contain her laughter with her hand over her mouth, and she almost looked gorgeous again. The confused and annoyed look on that man’s rugged face mimicked Anthony’s children’s expression so well… down to the petulant pout... Against his best judgment, Anthony felt a thunderous laughter brewing inside his belly. 

“I _can’t_ pay more than a hundred a week!” Eliot Spencer exclaimed with outrage in his voice and raised his hand as he was meant to poke Anthony in the chest. “I know that didn’t even cover the basics but…” 

Chloe was losing the battle with laughter, too relieved that the scary man with the puzzled expression wasn’t asking for anything dishonest, but she broke out in a spell of schoolgirl-ish giggles when the notion finally dawned on Eliot. Anthony witnessed how his friend’s face lost color and his mouth opened and closed in rapid succession. The accusatory hand retracted and went open to slap that now ashamed face. 

“Shoot! For f-!” Eliot Spencer cut himself short when he remembered there were tykes in the room. “For shame! I didn't mean- _No!_ I just meant-!”

Anthony was too busy laughing to reassure his benefactor and, following his example, his princesses let out their first real laugh in months.

“I’ll do it for free!” Chloe interrupted him and rested her weight against Anthony.

“Ma’am, all work must be paid. I’m ashamed that I can’t pay you more.”

“Sweet mercy!” Anthony exclaimed, feeling giddy. “Don’t you have a job for me?”

“Nah, man. You’re young and fit. Find your own job because, to be honest, I want you out of here as soon as possible.” Eliot Spencer extended his hand, Anthony took it out of habit. “I want you back on your feet, under your own roof…”

Anthony Hanner used to be a proud man, but pride can’t fight poverty. This old army buddy of his, the one who had found him under a bridge and looked at him as a human being, was giving him the tools to fight. With the speed of their Army times, Anthony pulled Eliot Spencer into a hug and fought the tears one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite how acutely aware Eliot would be of, and careful to avoid, the negative (and very sexual) implications of the phrase "take advantage of" in his daily life, professional deformation caught him flatfooted here. Eliot was way more worried to take his old Army friend's family out of the streets than about his language; in his hurry, he forgot the world could be a lot bleaker than it is in his experience warranted. 
> 
> Leverage only uses that phrase in the economic sense and sometimes Benjamin Whorf is right: words only make sense in the community you use them. 
> 
> This fic owes a lot to Fire Sidoni from Discord, who made it readable. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
